A Night of Dreams
by driter
Summary: Make No Prom-ises: how it should've happened. Dasey. Duh. One shot.


**Okay, so I've been working on this fic for a while now. I finally got the 'inspiration' to finish it. Anyway, I had a lot of fun with it (I've always thought the Prom episode had so much potential).**

**Let me know what you guys think ;) (hint: it rhymes with "futton", lol)**

**P.S. **

**S.H.S.G is never far from my heart ****:) Thanks to all reviewers.**

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**Derek**

He walked into a purple, spazzy war zone. He dodged a boutonnière.

"What the heck?" he whispered.

"Casey's night's ruined," Marti piped from the stairs, licking a lollypop—that better not have been from his candy stash again. But he let it go.

Besides, there was fighting going on.

"…jerk!" Casey cried to Max, who had apparently grown a pair of emotions and looked incredibly pissed off.

"You've been acting like a brat all week! Correction: Month."

"Well, if I'm such a brat, why are you taking me to prom?" she screamed.

"Maybe, I won't."

"Well, maybe we're over."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

She charged towards him and Derek's brows hopped, trying to move the hell out of her way. "What are you doing here?!" she shrieked at him.

"I um, live here." He blinked. "Plus, I'm taking Sally to prom."

"Oh, just perfect." She huffed and she looked like she might cry. "I'll be the only one there without a date, sitting all by myself and looking like a train wreck. I mean that's what I look like, don't I?"

She spoke so fast he could barely keep up. And, she stared at him, imploring.

"Well?" she cried, "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"Um, better luck next prom?" he croaked.

Her face collapsed, and their parents glowered and even Max—the biggest douche ever—looked at him like he was an ass.

"I just hate you," she said and shoved past him.

"Casey, wait."

He reached for her before he could even think. But, somewhere between the first and last step, and her theatrical escape, the universe laughed, and he tore the hell out of her dress. She gasped and there were some more dreadful tearing sounds as she spun back to him.

"How could you?" she rasped, and there was tearing in her voice, followed by another dreadful tearing in his chest.

"Derek!" He heard several people call behind him. He turned quickly, and when he looked back Casey was already up the steps, her bedroom door slamming.

--

Max was gone now. Along with his limo, which Derek had definitely been planning on bumming a ride in to impress Sally. Yet, under the furious weight of his glowering family—and, if he admitted it—his ever growing and pestering conscience, he folded.

He stowed up in his room and sent Sally a text. Yes, it was lame, and probably rude; but he honestly couldn't handle another chick spazzing out. Not another one he cared about.

He flipped open a comic and tried really hard to pretend he couldn't hear Casey weeping in her room, when his phone rang.

"Talk to me," he said lowly.

"_Derek_!" He pulled the phone about a foot from his head, "_What the hell did you do?_!"

"Um, Em?" he finally guessed, grimacing. There was grumbling in the background. Sounded like Sheldon.

"_Yeah_; _that's me_. _You know, the best friend of the girl whose night you and Max sabotaged!_"

"Hey," he hissed back instantly, "Not fair, Em."

"_It's really not_. _Do you even care about her_?"

His head dipped, like there was actually someone in the room to see him, and he rubbed behind his neck, mumbling, "Yeah."

"_Then you're gonna help fix this. Now_."

--

**Casey **

"If you're Derek, Max, mom, George, Edwin, Lizzie, or Marti, please go away!"

Her door opened anyway and she kept her back to it, glowering at the wall.

"You forgot Prince Charming."

"God, Derek, would you just-"

She turned to him and he was smirking—which was beyond annoying—but he also looked incredible—which was even more annoying. He was wearing this amazing, and apparently magical tuxedo she guessed was for Sally. And, behind him he held a bag.

"What?" she said, glaring, "Is he behind you or something?"

"Cute," he said and she rolled her eyes before turning back from him.

"Are you here to rub in your hot date?"

"No," he said. She felt her bed dip behind her, "Actually, I'm here to try to get another, bitchier, prissier, and substantially colder date."

Okay, so now he had her attention. "What?" she asked, squinting.

She turned back and he was propped on his left hand, like he knew she would do that, and he was waiting for her.

"I've come to take you to prom."

Yeah, so she'd had this daydream before. Usually a ghastly nightmare. Sometimes the opposite.

"What?" she asked again.

The bed peaked again and he stood so she could straighten and see what he had with him. It looked like clothing. A dress?

"Derek?" She whispered.

He didn't answer, but just nodded for her to open it.

She instantly did, hyper fingers unzipping the garment bag. Her breath hitched, a sharp, pleased sound, and she saw his lips quirk as she touched the fabric.

"Am I on Candid Camera?" she blurted, breathless.

"I'm an ass," he said with a shrug, "Max is a bigger ass…Let's have fun anyway."

"But, you hate prom," she whispered, leaving that fake, polite opening for him to renege.

"Yeah, but you also sort of hate me right now. Which is sort of a problem, if I'm supposed to be the Thompson High Prince Charming n' all."

"I don't hate you," she said.

"Eh, wait 'til you to see me dance."

She smiled. And, when he smiled back, his eyes that rare soft brown she craved, her gaze gentled and lingered.

"What?" he said, hands jumping to his tux, "Is my fly down?"

--

**Derek**

Derek loved Nora. He really did. But, if she took one more picture of him, he was going to snap.

"I hope you don't mind me being a little trigger happy?" Nora said between flashes, "This is just honestly the cutest thing I've ever seen."

He mumbled something close to polite.

"Nora stop, please," George said, "You're going to send him into seizures."

"Just one more."

She took three more and finally stopped. Derek wobbled slightly. Then he smirked at her alarmed face.

"Not funny, Derek," Nora said, although her lips were quirked.

"I don't understand why this is taking so long," Derek said, turning to glance back up the steps, "She already spent all _decade_ getting ready. And, it's just me."

"It's not about you on these days, son. Never. Trust me," George said with smirk.

"For once, your father's right about women," Nora quipped. She sighed and rested her camera absently on her shoulder, "I still remember my first prom. Charles Mackey," she said distantly, "He was so dumb. And so cute."

"Ah, yeah, the good old days," George said, doing some reminiscing of his own, "Gina Summers. Made out with her in the back seat."

"And, the grand finale?: my prom," Derek said dryly, "Where I get to take my lame step-"

He may or may not have finished that sentence, because his brain, eyes, and body were suddenly jerked to the steps were Casey stood in her dress. He wasn't sure what the hell she'd done wrong earlier that night; but the second time was definitely the charm as she walked down in that soft, pink fabric, her hair wavy and on her shoulder like he always secretly liked it.

"You don't like it?" Casey asked him. "Oh, god I don't think I can take anymore rejection today."

"No, no…" He said quickly. But, he couldn't really finish, so the point was probably lost.

"You look fantastic; like Cinderella," George said from behind him.

And apparently those were exactly the words to say, because she beamed. At George. Not Derek.

"Yeah, fantastic," Derek finally croaked. But, it sounded more sarcastic or forced than anything else.

"Thanks, Derek," she said quietly, like she was only awarding him credit because he was a slow learner.

"Absolutely beautiful. Oh, I think I might cry."

"Mom," Casey groaned, but she looked mostly flattered.

Derek then realized that he was the only one still facing Casey—which was probably socially inappropriate—so he turned suddenly.

"Right, well, we should be off," he blurted.

"Ha," George laughed sharply, "You honestly think Nora's letting you anywhere near the door without more pictures first?"

"Right, obviously."

He swallowed as Casey walked towards him, her perfume slamming into him in the best, softest way. And, then her hand brushed his back.

"Do we have to touch?" Derek squeaked.

Casey's nose twisted and Nora frowned at him.

"I'm not infectious," Casey griped.

"Heh, well." He chuckled nervously. "Why risk it, ya know?"

Her arms jumped up across her chest, shielding herself, and he grimaced. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Whatever."

"I just meant-"

"We don't have to touch," she snapped, her face pinched.

Nora frowned even more then, before taking a few quick pictures of them standing stiffly and several feet away from each other.

--

**Casey **

Casey knew she shouldn't have been angry. Or surprised. This was Derek. He had a certain threshold for niceness and then he had to promptly return to his ass equilibrium. But, she couldn't help the sting of him rejecting her. Again. And, for some reason, it bothered her more than Max's.

"You're quiet," Derek said as he backed out the driveway, Nora following after them like a rogue paparazzo.

She sighed and ignored him.

"Is this about the picture thing?" he said again quietly.

She sighed and ignored him again.

They pulled up to a stop light.

His fingers brushed her wrist and she started. "What are you doing?"

"Touching you," he said, "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Her stomach clenched and she prayed that her cheeks weren't as red as they felt. "What? No." she hissed instantly.

"I just…" He look flustered. "I don't…why are you mad at me then?"

Touché.

"You…you…you ruined my night, embarrassed me, and now you're still acting like an ass."

He sighed and the car moved forward as the light changed. "I don't do pictures," he said.

"Please. You are the vainest man I know."

"I'm also the prettiest man you know."

She wished that wasn't funny. She hated it when he was funny when she was trying to be mad. She covered the twitch of her mouth with a huff.

"Hey," he said and his voice sounded surprisingly sincere, "This is your night; for real. I could care less what you wanna do; let's just do it."

That was sweet. And, she hated that, too.

--

**Derek**

He was at prom with the hottest girl in the gym. Who also happened to be his stepsister.

Just peachy.

She'd thawed out considerably in the car. And, he couldn't decide if that was the best thing ever, or the worst. Maybe it was both.

"Oh, you guys look adorable!" Emily cried.

"Absolutely adorable," Sheldon echoed.

It was his turn to flash pictures and both Derek and Casey grimaced.

"I never look adorable," Derek said.

"I'll second that," Casey murmured beside him.

He rolled his eyes. And then the girls—and Sheldon—proceeded to hug each other, bouncing up and down. Sheldon kind of faded out when they started complimenting each other's dresses and reaffirming their undying B.F.F. hood. Derek just smirked.

"Dude," he heard someone say behind him. It was Ralph, "What you're doing for Casey?" He placed his hand on his heart, and actually seemed to mean it. "That's like…_real_, ya know?"

"No," Derek said dryly, "I don't know. And I don't want to."

Sam slow clapped to his right. "Remarkably unass like." He tilted his head side to side, "_Exceptttt_ when you tore her dress. That was pretty ass like."

He smacked the back of his head and Derek wondered how the hell news traveled so fast. Then he glanced to Emily and answered his own question.

"You tore her dress?" Ralph asked.

And yet never fast enough for Ralph.

"I'll fill you in later," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

"Coolness," Ralph said nodding. He grinned at Derek, "Guess who got a date?"

"Captain Planet?" Derek guessed with a smirk.

"No, _me_," Ralph said, exasperated. "My scalping strategy totally worked."

"Scalping?" Derek said. "Like…" he trailed off and gestured to his hair.

"No," Sam answered, "Like tickets."

Derek sent him an incredulous look.

"Yeah. I waited 'til the absolute last minute, looked for some crying babes, and totally scored!" Ralph patted his shoulder and gestured across the room, where a ditzy blonde was sitting at a table, "That's how I roll, man; that's how I roll."

Sam rolled his eyes again, but shrugged. "_Anyway_, we need to head back to sit with our dates. Feel free to bring Case, or not…" He said, squinting, "I don't completely get the arrangement."

"Don't worry," Derek said, "We're not suddenly B.F.s or anything."

"Oh, no, Derry? You _promised_." he heard whined behind him.

He smirked, turning as Casey slipped beside him.

"'Kay, whatever, see you guys." Sam said as he was dragged off by an over eager Ralph.

"We don't have to hangout," she said more seriously when they left, "You can go find another Cinderella."

"What?" he asked, brows high. "Are you relieving me of duty?"

"What?" she mimicked, her own brows bouncing. "Are you taking orders from me now?"

Her lips curved and it suddenly struck him that was there no banter better than theirs.

"I'll do some off the clock work."

"Oh, how gracious of you, Sir Hotness," she said, practically skinny dipping in sarcasm.

He bowed slightly and she rolled her eyes.

"We can just join tables," she said.

He nodded and followed her.

--

**Casey**

Someone could have held a gun to her head and she still wouldn't have admitted it, but she was having the most fun she'd ever had at a dance. And, there hadn't even been dancing yet—which was usually her favorite part.

Her friends and his friends totally rocked. And, he wasn't too bad either.

"…and, then," Emily gasped behind fits of laughter, "The whole thing exploded! I mean, marshmallows and hair everywhere. It was the grossest and funniest things I've ever seen!"

Derek leaned back in hysterics, his shoulder bumping hers, and she couldn't help but let her own smile slip.

"That's _priceless_," he cried.

"I don't get it," Ralph said quietly in his chair.

His date sighed and leaned over to explain it to him, while everyone else rolled their eyes.

"So, should the dancing begin?" Sheldon said, doing what Casey could only describe as a shimmy.

Emily laughed. "Sure, babe; let's rock."

She grabbed his hand and headed for the floor. Sam and his date excused themselves, too. And, then it was just her and Derek. And, of course, Ralph and the blonde, who was still explaining the story.

"That's totally hilarious!" Ralph said, clapping his knee.

The blonde laughed beside him, eyes somewhat vacant, but entertained.

"Hey, I can tell you some knock-knock jokes on the dance floor?" Ralph offered.

"Awesome."

Casey watched blankly as they left, too. She turned back and Derek was watching her awkwardly.

"So."

"So," she said back.

"I'm not much of a public dancer," he admitted, "Only when the girl's like ridiculously hot."

That shouldn't have been offensive. It really shouldn't have.

"And, then I'm still pretty reluctant."

"So what do you usually do at dances?" she asked quizzically.

"Talk with her. Socialize. And then really '_talk_' with her," he said meaningfully.

"Idiot," she said, but not incredibly meanly.

"Just being honest."

"Spacey Casey," she heard behind her.

She smiled when she turned and saw Noel, "Hey! I didn't know you were the prom type?"

"I'm not," he said, "My friends and I came as a joke."

He gestured to his faded, blue retro tuxedo, and she laughed ruefully. Him and Max could have been twins.

"Is it okay if I steal her for a dance or two?" he asked Derek, mostly out of formality. He jiggled slightly. "I promise I won't hurt her with my boogey."

Derek frowned. "Well-"

"Ignore him, he doesn't mind," Casey said, standing. "Try not to 'miss me' or anything, Derry."

She smirked at him playfully and then grabbed Noel's hand.

--

**Derek**

Noel had his hand on her back, which was bare. And, it was really pissing him off. Not that he showed that of course. He was pretty sure he looked damn cool sitting there, stiff as a rod, and glaring the hell out of the back of Noel's head.

Casey kept being silly.

Winking at Derek, pulling faces, and sticking out her tongue. So apparently, he really wasn't obvious. Or, she was incredibly dense. Probably the latter.

He grunted and then knocked back another shot of punch, wondering grouchily how many stupid songs she and Noel were going to "boogey" to.

When the third girl approached him for a dance, she still wasn't that hot and he still didn't want to; but he accepted anyway. Because he was a man of action and the sitting thing wasn't working for him. Also, he needed something in his hands so he wouldn't murder Noel in front of a hundred or so witnesses.

"Your tux is awesome," Amanda said, giggling.

He hated giggling, but he let her pull him to the corner of the dance floor anyway. It was dimly lit, and there were patches where you couldn't see couples, but his eyes strayed moodily and found Casey across the sea of people.

She was already staring at him, too. But, not smiling anymore. No more faces. Her eyes shadowed and her head ducked into Noel's shoulder.

Stupid boogying.

"You seem distracted," Amanda whispered.

He felt more like crushed. "Uh, well, you know."

He liked pain, that had to be it; because he kept looking over at Casey, watching her, watching as Noel's hands slid against her, watching as she fell into him.

He was so fucking angry.

And, when her eyes slipped and shot him her own glare, he snapped.

"I uh, I gotta go," he said.

"What? Why?"

"Sorry, it's uh a-a thing."

His feet were slapping against the gym floor before he could stop them.

--

**Casey**

Rejection sucked. Hard. And, she absolutely hated that, even as she was rocking in Noel's overzealous arms, it didn't make her hurt any less. Or make her any less angry.

She forced herself to stop looking over there. Stop scrutinizing every inch of Amanda's outfit, her hair, her shoes, searching for any clue as to why she was so much "hotter" than she was.

Noel thought she was hot. She kept telling herself that. But, it still wasn't enough.

She huffed, glared at Derek once more, and promised herself it was her last as she focused on Noel.

"You alright?" he asked, "You seem Spacey. Like your nickname, heh."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. And, she actually squeezed him because she was feeling pretty shitty.

"You're so pretty," he said suddenly. And, her eyes widened. First at him. And, then at Derek who was marching towards…

...them? No.

"Mind if I cut in?" Derek asked Noel, although he was staring at Casey.

"Uhm, well, a little-"

"It's a family thing," Derek lied, pushing his shoulder a little, "Promised her mom."

Noel still looked very much like he minded. But, he was a poet, not a fighter. And, he sighed before taking off.

"I don't want to dance with you," she hissed at him.

His arms came around her firmly, an awkward slow dance. "Well, I wanna dance with you," he said, his tone like he was cursing her, not asking her.

"I already told you," she said tightly, her hands worming out from under his arms and then settling tensely over them, "You're off duty."

"So, what? You're telling me Noel's your prince? Better luck next prom," he said again, which he must have known would piss her off.

"You're such a jerk."

But he kept holding her tighter and she was sort of clutching him then, too. Her eyes were locked in his dark ones, so she didn't completely notice when he ushered them into a darker section. Not completely.

"You're a drama queen," he told her, "A freaking ice queen. And, he's such a loser and you're so hot. Why would you dance with him?"

He had her flush up against him, and they were sort of tangled as his eyes burned angrily into her. She felt her stomach keep bursting and knotting and bursting all over again.

He stroked her back, kneading her side; and she didn't know why she did it, but she nuzzled his neck very softly. And, then she sucked his adam's apple very hard.

"_Casey, oongh,_" he cried.

She kept her mouth on him a little longer, and he was squeezing her shoulders desperately by the time she pulled back.

"We need to 'talk'. Now," he rasped, his voice cracking.

"Yeah, let's 'talk.'"

--

The only thing weirder than making out with Derek Venturi was the long, tense walk back to his car.

She was going to jump him. She was really going to jump him. In the Prince.

No one would have guessed this by the way they were standing: stiffly and several feet away from each other.

They offered tight, uncomfortable smiles and waves to a few passers.

Her heel's clicks picked up right before the car, and she could hear him gaining behind her, but she beat him. She pulled at the door. Locked, duh. She turned to tell him such, when he pressed into her, pinning her with his body and his gaze. "Open it," he ordered her.

"It's locked. Duh."

"Oh." He blinked. "Right."

He reached in his pockets, his hands shaking slightly, and her foot slipped around his ankle and then invited the rest of her leg around his, too. "Open it, Derek," she teased him.

His jaw flexed and he finally swung the keys from his front pocket, reaching around her.

"Are you like this with every guy?" he asked her. And, it wasn't mean or critical, just pretty damned stunned.

"No," she answered, and she never thought she'd say this, "Just you."

"Hot," he whispered.

She agreed. "Now open it," she said again, this time a little more frustrated.

He did, because he wasn't one to choke under pressure, and he slid her away swiftly, so the door could jerk open. She got in first, doing an awkward, yet deft backwards half crawl towards the passenger's seat. She felt like a hot ninja.

He followed, hovering over her, which was also awkward; but he was persistent, stalking her mouth with his eyes he came in on top of her.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing," she finally admitted.

"I'll teach you," he promised.

She was good student, so she learned quickly as his lips instructed hers, his mouth, rough, hot, controlling—in the best damn way—as the kiss kept steadily building. She could feel a building in her chest, too, as she let him tilt her back and part her lips.

--

**Derek **

For the first time ever her mouth was open and he didn't want it shut.

"_Oww_," she hissed.

He pulled back, squinting. "Does this…hurt?".

Her head shook. "No. It's just cramped." She sighed and glanced to her left, "Do you think there'd be room in the back seat?"

He gave his brain a moment to die and then come back to life.

"Yeah," he whispered, eyes dumb.

He pulled up from her, hesitantly, 'cause he almost didn't believe her. Until finally he shifted himself into the backseat. He sat up stiffly, waiting for her.

"We don't have to do anything you don't wanna do," he said as she crawled back there with him.

"Do I look like the kind of girl who ever does anything she doesn't wanna do?" she said by his cheek.

He shook his head.

"So what do you wanna do?" he asked her, letting his left hand whisper down her arm.

Her breath sped up. "What do you wanna do?"

"I dunno," he lied.

She reached over and started unbuttoning his shirt and he leaned in, his forehead pressing against hers as he watched her. "You're so hot," he whispered, "You've always been so freaking hot…And, your dress…" His breath hitched as she finished the last button. He still couldn't finish. He hoped that was okay.

Casey shrugged off his coat, then his shirt, and then whispered, "You're not too bad yourself."

He brushed her lips again, a rough, teasing stroke, before pulling back and reaching for her dress. "Please?" he asked.

She nodded.

She kissed him, her hands wrapping his head, his neck as they pressed together, bundles of bunching fabric and limbs. His arms latched around her and his fingers worked her dress.

And kept working.

And kept working.

And kept…Damn.

"How do you…?"

His hands shook, his jaw tightening, as her fingers ran down his bare back along his spine.

"I, _ungh_; how do you get this off?" he finally rasped out.

"I don't know," she moaned, "It was hard to get on."

He met her gaze with need, frustration, as he stared hotly at her, her body arching into his, as he tried to unzip her.

"Come on, Derek," she gasped in his ear, lips stroking just above his earlobe, "You can do this."

"I can do this," he said back, making her shiver.

He heard the sharp, soft crack of her zipper, felt a burst of hot skin and cold air.

"Impressive," she murmured.

He smirked. "I'm clutch."

He stiffened, his head shooting up at the sudden, jarring knocking.

"Oh, shit," Derek hissed, "What the-?"

"Dude?" he heard.

Derek shifted over her, shielding her face as the door opened all the way and in popped Ralph's head.

"Dude," he said again, "Can I borrow a ten?"

"I'm sort busy here, man," he growled, exasperated.

"I know," Ralph said, smiling, "And, pardon the interruption Miss Babilicious; but I really need a ten. No way Linda will make out with me and if I can't afford beverages first."

"_Fine_," he cursed, feeling Casey squirming under him, "Just, uh, in the glove compartment.

"All out, dude," he said. His voice was urgent, "Come on, help a brother out."

"I'm gonna freaking kill a broth-"

He stopped when her hand touched his ass. Or, okay, his back pocket. She slipped out his wallet and Derek's hand covered hers and took it, handing it to Ralph.

"Thanks, mysterious babe,' Ralph said, nodding vigorously as if to make up for this.

"I'm gonna kick your ass later, man."

"Gotcha!"

Ralph winked, took the ten, and slammed the door shut.

"Unbelievable," Derek breathed when they were finally alone. He shifted, so he was arching slightly over her and caught her gaze, "Sorry about that, Case."

"S'okay."

They lay there, his chest bare and her bra peaking from her dress, staring at each other. Her hand reached up and stroked tenderly between his ear and his chin.

"We don't have to go so fast," he said, and now his body was promising to kick his brain's ass later, too, "I don't rush it like this with other girls, I promise."

"I know," she whispered. She rubbed his neck. "Just kiss me."

His nose bumped hers a little, affectionately, as he pulled her dress back up, covering her, before his lips pressed to hers.

--

**Casey**

"Done?" she asked him, her neck craning to see him behind her back.

"Almost," he said.

Her back was pressed to him in the car, his hands struggling with her dress zipper. He grunted slightly and then closed it all the way. "You're good."

"Okay," she said. She turned to him and he shifted his hold, so that he was still loosely touching her as they faced each other, "Does my hair look okay?"

"No," he answered.

"Ugh; maybe we should just go home then?" she asked, face scrunching.

"Yeah." His head tilted towards the front seat, "Ladies first."

She rolled her eyes at him and climbed into the passenger seat—knowing he was going to check out her ass. His smirk confirmed this when he settled in front of the steering wheel. "Works like a charm."

"Pervert," she mumbled.

His eyebrows waggled. "I thought that's what you liked about me?"

"No," she said, her voice lowering seriously as she turned to him, "What I like about you is that even though you try to wear a nametag with 'Ass' on it every day, you always come through when it counts."

He smirked. "Did I kiss _that_ good?"

She smacked his shoulder. "You know what I mean."

His gaze deepened, and she watched his smirk soften to a smile. Her hand brushed his.

"I really appreciate what you did for me tonight—_Der-reck!_"

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to keep his mouth from twitching, "But, you really just make it too easy."

"That better not be a pun," she said, pointing her finger at him.

He grasped her wrist gently and then took her hand. "I've pretty much liked you for a kabillion years, Case," he said, "And, it kind of feels like it all just…"

"Erupted at once?"

"Are you _trying_ to sound dirty?"

"No," she said sheepishly. And, she wasn't. He quirked an incredulous brow as she continued, "I just meant—innuendos aside—that I felt it, too. All of it. Sort shoving itself to surface so I couldn't hide it anymore. And, I think I…eww," she gasped, "Have feelings for you."

"Well, I'd hope so," he quipped, although she could see his gaze was pleased, "After you ravished me like that in the backseat."

"Okay, Mr. Cuddles."

"_Never_ call me that again."

"So don't cuddle me again," she said, leaning into him, "Which you so will."

"Are you asking me out?"

"I'm trying to," she breathed, her lips brushing his.

He deepened it, his hands smoothing on her back and pulling her closer, and she smiled as he whispered, "It's a date."

--


End file.
